


you and me

by savage_starlight



Series: meet me in the woods tonight (relian brightherd) [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: F/M, allusions to child abuse but nothing graphic or on screen, author is a self-indulgent idiot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 02:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30031854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savage_starlight/pseuds/savage_starlight
Summary: the beginning of phineas and janna brightherd's courtship.
Series: meet me in the woods tonight (relian brightherd) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2209263
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	you and me

**Author's Note:**

> hi my name is atlas and i have no fucking self control whatsoever this is self-indulgent nonsense and i apologise in advance but hey, at least it's not angst for once. title from 'you and me' by you+me bc fuck it fits them so well.

The first time Phineas ran into Janna Blacklock, it was quite literal and entirely by accident.

Of course, he didn’t know her name was Janna at the time. What he knew was that it was getting dark out, and he was in a hurry, and there was rain in the air and he was supposed to be back home in four minutes. Given that it was a twenty-seven minute walk, he found that to be an unlikely occurrence and was in the midst of damning his own distractibility when left to his own devices when he slammed into another solid body and stumbled unceremoniously into the mud that he had intended to walk around.

Such was the price he paid for looking at the ground while walking. Groaning and muttering a series of curses that would certainly get him rapped across the knuckles if Uncle were to hear, he glanced up just in time to watch the figure he’d stumbled into right herself against a nearby tree and turn around to fix him with an exasperated look.

An exasperated look, and rather striking golden eyes. They were filled with a good deal of confusion and annoyance at the moment, but were nevertheless – well, stunning. The woman said something his brain didn’t quite process as it was rather preoccupied with processing the uncomfortable chill of the mud against his knees, and he blinked instead of replying.

The woman frowned. “Did you knock your head on something?”

Phineas shook his head to knock the rest of the fuzz out of it, then scrambled to stand. “Er, no. Nothing aside from aside from you – oh, blast and damnation.” As he finally regained his footing, he finally looked down to realise that the trousers, new only a few days ago, were absolutely saturated in mud. Tonight would be unpleasant then. _Should’ve focused less on bloody fucking mage hand earlier._ A cleaning spell might’ve been handy for this.

“I’m sorry, mage hand?” She was still staring at him, now looking as if she might be unconvinced about his mental state.

“Shit.” He hadn’t meant to say the last bit out loud. Or the cursing in response, either. “It’s nothing, I’m simply – I was studying the wrong thing, I’m afraid. Should’ve been focusing on some spell for getting mud out of clothes rather than the one for reaching high shelves. Ignore it – are you quite alright? I’m sorry, I should’ve been looking where I walked.”

“I’m not the one who crashed into a mud pile,” the woman pointed out. “As for spells, I’ve got one for you. It’s called soap. You heard of it?”

“Soap?” Phineas’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment. Then blood rushed to his face. “Ah, yes. Right. Practical solutions for practical problems. I might have thought of that. Well. It’s unlikely I would have, but I should have.” He was rambling, and running late, and covered in mud, and making a terrible first impression. If he kept on in this manner, perhaps he’d horrify the poor stranger he’d collided with into calling for a medic.

Best to avoid that. He cleared his throat, then smiled. “Your wisdom is much appreciated. Is there anything I can do to make up for inconveniencing you this evening?”

“You didn’t inconvenience me. It was an accident.” The woman frowned once again, tilting her head to the side. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Yes!” Phineas responded, with far too much energy to sound genuine. “Quite fine. In that case, I bid you good journeys. Hopefully without further collisions. Nobody needs multiples of those in one night.” Suddenly aware of the time ticking away and how he would be even later than expected now and covered in mud, he cleared his throat, then gave a messy salute that made the woman’s eyebrows raise even higher. Perhaps that had been the wrong gesture to make. Or he’d simply made it wrong. “Wonderful evening to you then,” he said cheerfully, and turned swiftly away before he could embarrass himself further.

Soap. He really ought to have thought of that first.

* * *

He wasn’t actually sure where to find the woman he’d run into before, or where to start looking. Uncle’s family didn’t exactly live in town (they were too busy presiding just north of it, looking snootily down below as though they were superior by virtue of Phineas’s parents dying and passing along enough inheritance to allow them to get a merchant store of their own) and they seemed to frown upon interactions with the less snobbish and prickly.

Of course, that didn’t change the fact that the town of Berolen had no real need for fancy stores or tutors or anything particularly flashy, which meant that Uncle’s family frequented the exact same venues as everyone else who didn’t own a mercantile. It wasn’t awkward for them, of course, as nobody particularly felt like sassing Uncle or his two abominable children who had somehow inherited all of his insufferable traits and intensified them further. Phineas, however, with his bright red hair and thick glasses and fidgety demeanour and inability to speak to people, was just out of place enough to be considered fair game.

Usually, it wasn’t a problem. At least, not a large one. Phineas blocked out most things people said to him out of instinct. It was, after all, the best way of tolerating Esme and Thaddeus, who both seemed to think they were terribly clever for their ability to maneuver social scenarios like ducks through water while being absolute tits behind everyone’s backs. It was decidedly more of a problem when he was going out of his way to speak to the people in town and they were less than interested in responding.

After the eleventh time in twenty-six minutes of being glared at, sworn at, smiled at in vaguely threatening manners, or some combination of the three, Phineas pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Twice-blasted godsdamned buggering fucking shit,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. Fine. If nobody else would be of help, he’d resolve the issue himself. As ever. It would hardly be like seeking a needle in a haystack. Berolen was a small town.

What he discovered over the next few hours was that Berolen, for all its small town views and aesthetics, was not a particularly small town. In fact, it was an infuriatingly large town that had too many buildings, a great number of halflings with long, dark hair, and far more important things to do than give him a break and point him in the direction of the woman he was looking for so he could simply pass off the present he’d made and return to his life of seclusion in the bookstore and the small workshop he’d made for himself in the woods near town. By the end of the day, he was hungry, tired, and felt a migraine coming on even before he headed home to tolerate Thaddeus’s badgering.

The next day, he went back again. After several hours of eerily similar results that were giving him a frustrating case of déjà vu, he decided to wander his way toward a tavern. The closest one seemed accustomed to serving taller patrons, but he doubted it would be too much of a hassle to scare up something simple to calm his thirst before he tried searching again.

At least, it didn’t seem like a hassle until the door swung open into his face.

Phineas jerked backward with a shout, his hand already flying toward his nose. The small herd of departing humans didn’t seem to have noticed anything awry, and he stood there gaping for a moment, trying to shake the stars out of his eyes. Did people make a habit of slamming things open like that? Uncle would’ve shouted bloody murder if Phineas even considered it.

Not that Uncle was the concern of most people in most situations. Muttering, Phineas quickly cast mage hand and used it to pull the hair of one of the departing unobservant, then winced sympathetically when the gesture wound up sparking a minor brawl of sorts between the group of them. Too much to drink then. Amazing, given that it was only early afternoon. How early had they started? Phineas rubbed at his nose as he contemplated, then swore when the slight movement caused the previously restrained gush of blood to break free and begin to pour down his face.

Swearing quite colourfully now and not particularly fussed about who was listening or what they’d make of it, he pressed a hand to his face and cast about for somewhere else to go and hide out until he stopped bleeding over everything and looking like a murder victim. As he pinched his nose and tilted his head forward, his eyes caught on an alley and he immediately crossed the street toward it, only to collide midway with yet another figure who jumped in surprise before catching his elbow as he nearly fell again and he spun around to look and-

Well. Avandra really was displeased with him today, it seemed.

“Hello,” he said weakly, waving a hand at the golden-eyed girl as he gave a smile that he expected came off as far more of a grimace. Considering his current state, he doubted it would matter. He wasn’t about to come off as charming.

“Gods, what happened to- Did you just break your nose walking into me? _Again?_ ” The woman gaped at him. “You don’t learn quick, do you?”

“Atchaly I do,” Phineas managed, wincing. “I was tyink to get to the alley to bleed in peas- Shid, is thad my blood on your shird? Bloody fuckink shid. I’m solly-”

“Please stop trying to talk. Sit down. Come on.” Without further comment, the woman took Phineas’s elbow and guided him across the street to the aforementioned alley and helped him to sit, then sighed. “Move your hands.”

Phineas squinted at her briefly, then did as told. She pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it against his nose, snorting quietly when he winced. “So,” she said idly, after a long and awkward pause. “You’re graceful, then.”

“Atchally my nabe’s Vinnieth,” he supplied helpfully, screwing up his nose and wincing at the gesture. He couldn’t quite help it though. He’d never liked anyone touching his face.

“Not gonna bother trying to decipher that one,” the woman said, shaking her head. “Try again when you aren’t bleeding.”

Phineas shook his head, pulling away slightly. “I didn’d mean to stard bleedink. I was tryink to fine you.”

“Well, you’ve found me, and you’re currently bleeding all over my handkerchief. This how you try to find most people?”

“I don’ really look for peeble,” Phineas admitted, somewhat sheepish.

“I can see why.” The woman pulled the handkerchief back slightly, frowning. “Done yet?”

Before she could advise otherwise, Phineas rubbed at his nose again. When it didn’t immediately resume gushing, he nodded. “Seeminkly.” He made a face, shaking his head and swallowing to clear his throat before trying again. “I think it’s better now, yes. Sorry about your handkerchief. And everything. This is actually very awkward, even by my standards, which is surprising given my capacity for disaster. I’m so sorry.” He glanced at her shirt and her now bloodied hands and covered his face with his hands. “This is not how I was anticipating this meeting going. At all. I can’t believe I managed to fuck it up before even talking to you – really, it’s bloody impressive. I didn’t mean to mutilate your clothing with my biology.”

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“She’s dead, so it would be very awkward and uncomfortable for the both of us if I did,” Phineas said without thinking. Then he winced. “Right, far too much information – I’m genuinely deeply fucking sorry for this entire encounter- Shit, do you not like swearing? I’ll stop, it’s not- damn it all,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“I’m not bothered by it,” the woman said, looking faintly amused. “More surprised. You’re the Silverrun’s kid. Nobody expects it out of you.”

“I am Ned Silverrun’s literal red-headed stepchild,” Phineas corrected, words muffled by his palms. “And he is deeply unamused by my language as well, which is why I only use it around people he’s too much of an asshole to talk to. Also, he’s my uncle. My father is likely occupied with keeping anyone from kissing my mother, as they’re both in the same grave.”

The woman blinked at him. “I’m sorry?”

Phineas waved a hand. “I was a child, et cetera. None of that needed.”

“That’s…not at all what I meant by that,” the woman said, looking somehow even more confused than she had upon their initial meeting.

“Then what are you apologizing for? It’s not as if you’re the one the reason they're dead. I assume.” He sighed, then straightened. No use in continuing to hide from someone who could see him fully.

She didn’t respond for a long time, rather as if she didn’t know what to say. In the end, she simply shook her head and sighed. “Alright then. Now, you were saying earlier – your name is Vincent? Vinneth?”

“Phineas.” He held out a hand on instinct, then took it back. “Right. Blood. Sorry.” Then he brightened considerably. “I can actually fix it this time!” Without warning, he took her handkerchief, then traced his fingers across it and murmured the incantation under his breath. He watched as the blood began to fade away from the fabric and his hand until it disappeared entirely, as if it had never been there in the first place.

Phineas grinned, tossing the handkerchief once in his hand. “Good as new, and no soap necessary,” he said cheerfully, holding it out to the woman only to freeze midway at the expression on her face. It was shuttered, clearly trying to hide some sort of thought process, and the extra layer of uncertainty made Phineas’s skin buzz with a faint discomfort. “Have I fucked something up again? I didn’t mean to.”

The girl took the handkerchief back without a word, turning it over in her hands. The silence stretched so long that Phineas considered excusing himself to flee and stick his head in the sand, and was nearly ready to do it when she spoke again. “Was that magic?” she asked, her voice quiet.

“Erm…yes,” Phineas admitted, folding his hands in his lap and focusing his eyes on them. “I like to learn it. For fun, you see. I think it’s interesting, and terribly convenient. I mean, it’s not so practical as soap, you can’t use it if you’ve bitten your tongue swollen. I don’t think, anyway. There might be books on that, actually, but I’m only just getting into the theory of it so I’m not positive about-“

“Could you teach me?” The words were so sudden that they made Phineas jump, and the woman shied back, looking suddenly less confident, like she wanted to retreat into a nearby wall.

Phineas could relate to that, though he wasn’t quite sure what she had to be afraid of for asking such a simple question. “Of course I could. I’m afraid I may not be much as a teacher and I’m not all that advanced myself, though. If nothing else, we could read together. I usually bury myself in the Watcher’s Eye on weekends, whenever I’ve got time. The man who owns it hates me less than most people, and he’s fairly pleasant. That’s actually where I was running from, when we met last. Terribly sorry, by the way, that I keep running into you. Literally, I mean.”

“You’re fine,” the woman said, still staring at the handkerchief.

It reminded Phineas of a different question. “Can I ask your name? Strange request, I know, but it is _astonishingly_ bloody difficult to locate anyone with the description of ‘black hair and golden eyes’. Berolen is a lot larger than I gave it credit for.”

At long last, she looked at him again, her eyebrows furrowed. “You should’ve tried asking for a woman whose face looks cut in half,” she mentioned blandly. “They’d have recognised me then.”

“Why would I have-? Oh.” It was only now that she mentioned it that Phineas noted the great, marring scar that cut across the woman’s face, pale against her darkened skin. “Would you believe me if I said I hadn’t actually noticed that before now? I suppose I’ve seen it, but it didn’t stick in my mind – your eyes really are wonderfully distracting, if I can say that.”

She raised a doubtful eyebrow. “My eyes.”

Phineas frowned. “Yes. That’s what I said, isn’t it? Is there something wrong with- oh, _hell_. Do you know what time it is?” He shoved himself to the feet, looking up toward the sky. As they’d sat in the alley, the shadows had started to grow. Supper could only be an hour or two off now. Uncle would be furious. “ _Bloody fucking shit_. I was supposed to be home early today for some sort of – bruncheon nonsense. I’m so sorry, I’ve got to be going.” Hurriedly he cast his spell again, tidying the rest of himself up as best he could.

Then the woman caught his hand. “My name is Janna,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes.

It was a mutual exercise in avoidance, really. He wasn’t looking back either. “Janna,” he repeated, then pulled away before sweeping into a low bow. Unlike the salute, this gesture felt entirely appropriate, despite the confusion on her face. “It is my deepest pleasure to meet your acquaintance, and I’ll look forward to making it again at the bookstore on Yulisen if you manage to stop by.”

He straightened and found her staring strangely at him once again. “I’ll be there. Late morning, probably. Maybe early afternoon.”

“Wonderful.” Phineas grinned. “Until then, excuse me. I am once again astoundingly late.” With a quick wink and a wave, he took off running and swore he saw her smile as he went.

* * *

As Janna stood outside the Watcher’s Eye, she forced herself to steady. It had been no great struggle to complete all her chores early in the morning, and it was only ten when she found herself staring at the bookstore front, her hands shaking at her sides and her mouth pressed into a tight white line. It was stupid to be so afraid of a meeting she’d all but asked for, but she couldn’t help the low hum of dread in her veins.

She barely knew Phineas. In fact, she didn’t know him. They’d run into each other twice, literally, and he’d done a few tricks and rambled off about things nobody spoke about, and then he’d sworn colourfully and run away both times. It was hardly the type of relationship that indicated some bond of trust, or camaraderie. There was no reason why she should have asked him to meet here today, and even less reason for him to agree and yet he had, and was likely already waiting for her inside. It would be rude to keep standing.

 _You don’t have to tell him the truth,_ she reminded herself sternly, rubbing at the patches of scales hidden beneath her shirt. She could listen, and learn, and run if it seemed he was about to ask too sensitive a question. He was demonstrably clumsy; it was unlikely she couldn’t outmaneuver him. That worst-case reassurance in mind, Janna took one last deep breath before entering the bookstore.

Chimes sounded overhead, faint and musical and welcoming. She glanced up at them, admiring the metalwork briefly before her attention was drawn to the half-orcish man dusting behind the counter. He glanced down at her and smiled with somewhat jagged teeth, ducking his head in greeting. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” he said. “Are you by any chance Phineas’s friend? He mentioned a woman might be coming.”

Janna blinked in surprise. “His friend?”

“My inference,” the half-orc supplied immediately. “Had you been an enemy, I doubt he’d have asked me to point you his way. Or if he had, he’d have warned me of his intentions for chaos.”

“I see.” Janna did not particularly understand any of what he was saying, but it seemed wiser to agree than to seek clarification. The man simply smiled and waved a hand, directing her to a room somewhere in the back corner of the second floor. “He’ll be there if he’s anywhere,” he said. “Help yourself to the tea.”

Still uncertain of the second remark, Janna nodded before setting off. The store was far larger than she’d expected from the outside, and a part of her wondered if it was some sort of magical effect. She trailed her fingers along the bookshelves, eyes tracing the various spines until she found herself in the corner the clerk had directed her to and paused.

There were several large armchairs and end-tables, the sort clearly made for people larger than she was. A few smaller setting places were nestled comfortably into corners as well, a kettle on each table with a soft burning flame flickering quietly beneath it. Phineas was in none of those, however. He was instead perched in the windowsill, two stacks of books beside him that looked nearly the same height he was. He had curled up beside one of the stacks, and his nose was buried in a thick tome, his eyes bright behind his glasses and a loose smile stretched broad across his face as he read.

There was something different about his expression now, Janna noticed distantly, a shift from how he’d seemed in their previous interactions that couldn’t be attributed solely to the collisions that had been involved in those. It took a minute for her to pinpoint that the shift was simply that he seemed happy now, rather than tense and off-kilter, and the realization gave her a strange sort of feeling that she was quick to push aside for the moment. She knocked twice on a nearby shelf, and when that did nothing cleared her throat. “Phineas?”

He yelped, kicking out at the nearby stack of books. The book in his hand went flying and knocked his glasses askew as both stacks crashed to the floor with a thunderous cacophony that made Janna jump in surprise. Phineas swore and held his foot for a moment, then straightened his glasses and looked up. “Janna? Oh, Janna!” He hopped off the windowsill, swearing once again as he landed on his injured foot, then gave a cheery wave. “You’re early! And you’re here. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Told you I would be,” she said, raising an eyebrow at the chaos. “Are you alright?”

“Peachy, thanks. Sorry about the noise – Kendrick soundproofed this corner because of me a long time ago, so nobody will be expecting the roof to cave in down below, but I’m afraid there wasn’t much he could do for those in the same space.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, bounced on his toes, then blinked at her again. “You actually came.”

“I asked you to meet,” Janna pointed out. “Why do you look so surprised?”

Phineas looked as if he were about to respond, then waved a hand dismissively. “Never mind that. No need for me to ramble about unrelated matters. I think I do that quite enough already. I believe you mentioned wanting to learn magic, yes?” He smiled, and it wasn’t quite the unguarded one from before but it was nevertheless bright. “I’ve not really got any experience with teaching, so I hope you’ll excuse my inevitable nonsense. Assuming, of course, that you don’t already expect it by now. Anyway!” He clapped his hands together, then frowned. “Where the fuck did I throw my book?”

“Right here,” Janna said, picking it up. She frowned at the title. “ _The Bones of the Cursed?_ I don’t recognise this one.”

Phineas took it back with a grateful half bow and a nod, then turned away to place it back on the windowsill, rambling as he went. “Don’t be fooled. The title is far more terrifying than the book is. It’s quite a read though, if you like unimpressed dragons and magic. I also don’t believe anyone’s told the two men at the lead of it that they’re in love yet, which keeps leading to some bloody infuriating miscommunications, but I expect they’ll figure it out by the end. Here.”

Janna accepted the book he was handing her hesitantly, turning it over in her hands. _“A Sorcerer’s Guide to Spellcasting,_ ” she read, then frowned. “Aren’t sorcerers born being able to use magic?”

“Er, yes and no? It depends on the individual, really – many of them aren’t even born with it so much as they get it by accident. Magic’s a bit finicky like that. Come on, sit down. I’ll explain as we go.”

And so Janna sat, and watched, and listened as Phineas spoke. He seemed to be able to go for minutes without breathing as he rambled on about the layout of sorcery textbooks being far more accessible than the ones for wizardry despite containing nearly identical spells at the entry level, about the differences between the types of magic, about how he’d always thought divination would be a fascinating school of inquiry but didn’t quite have the knack for it. “Not that I’ve got the knack for anything just yet,” he was quick to point out, nearly an hour into their lessons. “I’m barely a beginner myself.”

“You seem to know a lot about it, beginner or not,” Janna noted, pursing her lips as she looked at a spell grid. “This is…a lot.”

“Trust me, the wizard ones are worse,” Phineas said, cleaning his glasses. “Think the bastards who write them make a point of being incomprehensible. There’s a reason I’ve started us with the sorcerer’s manuals. Speaking of incomprehensible, I fear I’m likely to get that way soon, so I recommend we stretch a moment and get some tea. Oppositions?” Janna shook her head and he grinned. “Wonderful.” Janna watched as he shuffled over to the teapot in the corner and began to throw some leaves in the basket with a somewhat alarming abandon, then glanced at her over his shoulder. “So, what do you do when you aren’t occupied learning magic with redheaded fools of dubious mental state?”

Suppressing a frown at the description, Janna shrugged. “I work in a smithy,” she admitted, twisting the braid at her neck into a low bun and pinning it with a pencil. “My father manages it. He trains me during the week.”

“You’re a blacksmith, really? That’s wonderful.” Phineas sat two cups on the table, then leaned forward to rest his head on his hands. “What’s it like? I’ve always marvelled at that skillset, but I doubt I’ll ever possess it. I’m far more of a tinkerer than a metal worker. Which reminds me, before I forget- I’ve a present for you.” He reached into one of his many pockets, muttering softly until he found what he was looking for and set it on the table between them as Janna settled down herself.

It was a clockwork bird, delicate and golden-eyed. Its wings looked so bizarrely soft that Janna would’ve wondered if it were really metal if not for the way they glinted in the light. She reached out to trace a finger along its neck and half-expected it to shudder to life beneath her touch. On the other side of the table, Phineas shifted as if he were uncertain, and Janna looked up at him with a frown, eyebrows knitting together. “Where did you get this?”

“I…made it,” Phineas admitted sheepishly. “I know, it’s not perfect, not even close – you still have to wind it up a few times a day, and it’s all a bit more wooden – er, metallic – than I would like it to be, but. I thought you might appreciate it. More than the people I live with, at any rate. Thaddeus would throw it out a window to watch it break.”

“Thaddeus…that’s your brother?”

“Cousin, thank fuck. Though even that much relation is still a tragedy of the blasted ages. But that’s neither here nor there, now is it?” He shifted, then bit his lip. “Do you like it? You’re not obligated to say yes, but I would appreciate if you refrained from throwing it at my face as a means of saying no. This is the first meeting we’ve had where I’ve not wound up bleeding and I would like to keep it that way.”

“It’s beautiful,” Janna murmured, and meant it in full. “I can’t imagine making something like this in the forge.”

“Yes, well. Forges make all the parts of it, so I’m afraid it wouldn’t exist without the aid of those such as yourself. Credit where it’s due.” Phineas smiled, then leaned forward, head propped on his chin. “Speaking of, I believe we were discussing that before I interrupted myself. Smithing, what’s it like?”

(They never did get back to studying.)

* * *

The meetings at the Watcher’s Eye quickly became a weekly tradition, and they were as much about studying as they were about socialising. Janna would wake as early as she was able and make up as many excuses as were necessary to keep her father from questioning too much where she was the entire day. Every morning, she wound up the clockwork bird and watched it flutter across the room, and on the bad days held it in her hand at night, stroking its metal feathers and reminding herself that Yulisen was, at its worst, only six days away.

Four weeks after she’d received it, her father found the bird.

* * *

The day they were to meet for the seventh time, Phineas found he couldn’t focus.

That in itself wasn’t terribly unusual – he’d long learned his mind focused on what it wanted when it wanted and there was no use in trying to persuade it otherwise – but the fact that he couldn’t even focus on reading was unusual. He’d manage a page, perhaps two, and then he would find himself once again checking his pocketwatch and frowning at the time. Janna had never been so late before, and though it was still before noon he couldn’t help but feel somewhat concerned over it. What if she’d gotten ill? What if there’d been an accident at the smithy? He doubted he’d have been informed if that were the case. The thought made his guts twist with an unfamiliar nervousness, the sort of dread usually reserved for when Uncle was being a particular tit about his manners or lack thereof.

There was no point in fussing. Worrying would just mean that he suffered twice, and that venture would be of little use to anyone. Instead, he stood up, made himself a cup of tea, and took to pacing, idly contemplating the window and reorganizing the books he’d picked for the week out of habit more than utility, first by colour, then title, then number of pages, on and on until he’d run out of categories.

It was nearing two in the afternoon. She still hadn’t come. Phineas made himself another cup of tea, waited for it to grow cold, then went downstairs to inquire with Kendrick. When he confirmed that he had also seen nothing of Janna, Phineas smiled, bowed politely despite the look on Kendrick’s face, and took off without further comment.

Even with his directional sense, it took little effort to find the smithy. There were two in town, but Janna had mentioned muffins that first week and only one of the shops was near a bakery. When he arrived at the forge, he took a quick look in the window and, when he saw no sign of Janna, frowned before entering.

The only occupant of the building aside from himself seemed to be a stoutly built halfling with short hair, black as pitch. He looked up when Phineas entered and gave an ugly scowl before continuing to beat the metal he was working on as if it had done him a personal wrong.

Well. This was awkward now. Phineas cleared his throat, bounced once on his toes, and called a greeting. When the man summarily ignored it, he tried once more. That netted the same results, and Phineas frowned before ducking neatly around the partition that blocked the forge from the main shop and walking in front of the anvil where the man was working.

The man’s hammer swung down and connected with the metal right next to Phineas’s head. It was only the great deal of practise he’d gotten from Uncle that kept him from flinching, but when a second swing didn’t come, he gave a cheerful wave despite how bloody stifling the heat was. “Hello. Fine evening this is. Do you have a moment?”

The man’s face twisted into an ugly expression. “You’re Ned Silverrun’s bastard, ain’t you?”

Phineas pasted on his best smile. Thaddeus was the bastard given that Ned was categorically incapable of being faithful to anything but himself, but that wasn’t information he was supposed to share. “His nephew, actually. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

The gob of spit landed directly on his glasses, and Phineas blinked for a moment in surprise. “You stuck-up shits aren’t welcome here,” the smith growled. “Why don’t you go find somewhere else to act like you’re Avandra’s gift to the fucking world?”

Well then. Taking a breath, Phineas pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began to clean his glasses calmly, as he always did when met with this sort of reaction. “I do hope this isn’t your standard response to all business inquiries. I can’t imagine that goes well with most people.”

The smith leered with an ugly smile. “The fuck’re you gonna do about it?”

“Nothing, really.” Phineas gave a small shrug. If he were bothered every time someone singled him out for Uncle’s foolishness, he’d never find a moment’s peace. “You’ve answered my question, quite tactilely. Was that tobacco?”

This time it landed on his cheek. “You tell me, runt.”

“I do believe it is,” Phineas said with a smile, then turned away. “Good evening to you then.” It was rather amazing, he thought, that the man found the energy to spit on him a third time as he left. That would be uncomfortable to clean from his hair later.

He walked until he was out of sight of the smith, scrubbing at his cheek as best he could and making a face. He hated this smell, though it was a bit funny that the smith used the same brand as Uncle. He’d be horrified if he knew. When he was a suitable distance away and as cleaned up as he could be, he pulled a copper wire from his pocket and frowned at it as he began to twist it through his fingers.

He was on his seventh try before he felt the spell take. Breathing a quick sigh of relief, he faced towards the smithy again and thought of Janna, murmuring under his breath. “Hello, Janny. Phineas here, though I expect you knew that. Are you alright? You weren’t hurt in the forge, or some other sort of incident?”

There was no reply for a while, so long that he assumed the spell had failed. He tried again. “Janna, are you alright?”

Another pause. Then the response came, clear and firm in his mind. _Go away, Phineas. I don’t want to talk anymore._

“Oh,” he said aloud, well aware she wouldn’t hear it. He leaned against the alley wall and blinked several times, uncertain of why this particular rejection stung any worse than the rest of them so far. Then he nodded, twisting the wire through his fingers once more as he tried not to think of the coldness of Janna’s tone. “Alright,” he said with a forced cheer that he hoped she wouldn’t hear over the hum of magic. “Been fun then. Have a grand evening, dear.”

He waited in the alley until the night went cold and Uncle would surely rage at him for the hour of his return, but no response ever came.

* * *

The Silverrun estate was not terribly difficult to find, even in the dead of night. Janna had never thought she’d have cause to venture there at any time of day, but it was particularly strange to be there now, like some thief stealing in under the cover of darkness. She would have much preferred to come in the day, or to show up at the bookstore again like she had in the past, but it had been three weeks since she’d stood Phineas up and she doubted Kendrick would be glad to see her.

She took a deep breath, just as she had before their third meeting, when she’d stood outside the bookstore with dread churning in her stomach. Things had gone just fine then, she reminded herself, and they likely would be fine now as well. It just depended on if Phineas would hear her out.

She wondered if it was strange, how much she hoped he would. Pulling a copper wire from her pocket, she twisted it in the same pattern she’d practised a hundred times and glanced up to the second floor window where candlelight still glowed. She felt the faint hum of magic in her bones and closed her eyes. “Phineas?” she asked quietly, words cautious in the night. “It’s Janna. Are you awake?”

There was a pause, nearly a minute long. Then a voice, more guarded than she’d ever heard it. _I am, yes. Have I done something?_

Janna let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, already twisting the wire again. “Of course not. Can I talk to you? In person?”

Another great pause. He probably thought this was some prank. _I’ll be down in ten minutes,_ he responded at last, and Janna shoved the wire back in her pocket before she could do something foolish and scare him off with further comments. Knowing him, he likely already doubted the nature of this encounter. He was right to.

Seven minutes later, a figure appeared at the front door, easing it shut behind him. Even in the moonlight, Phineas’s hair glowed a vibrant, flaming red, and she was a bit surprised by how tidy it looked. He seemed far more put together than the boy who met her at the bookstores, and she wondered if it was the location or her presence that made it so.

He came to a stop just before her and smiled, a wide but wooden thing. “Hello. Interesting hour you’ve chosen. I thought I was the only one who burned the midnight oil this literally.” He nodded toward the lantern in her hand and tilted his head to the side. “Something the matter?”

Janna pulled the remains of the clockwork bird from her pocket before she could think better of it and held them out towards him. It was all but destroyed, and she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I…your bird, it was broken. Can you fix it?”

Phineas’s expression was unreadable as he took it into his hands, turning the shards over. Janna could only imagine how it looked from his perspective, her showing up at this hour, giving him his beautiful gift in tatters. But this had been the only way she had known to start a conversation. He nodded once, lips pursed. “I can do it. Maybe an hour or two. Would you like it delivered back to the smithy when I’m done?”

Janna shook her head. “He'd just break it again.”

Phineas raised an eyebrow at that. “’He?’”

“My father,” Janna said. “Please, can you – is there anywhere you can work on it? Where we can talk?”

Phineas studied her in silence for a long moment, green eyes locked on her face. She looked back stubbornly, pressing her lips together. There was nowhere else to look. After a time, he finally broke eye contact and nodded as he began to walk toward the woods behind the Silverrun estate. “Come on. I know a place.”

It was about a twenty minute walk, and it passed in near absolute silence. The only interruptions were the occasional bit of wildlife that crossed their paths, or the quiet and precise murmur of Phineas’s voice as he cautioned her over a particularly precarious root. Eventually, a small structure not unlike a shed rose up from the shadows. Phineas produced a key from his pocket to unlock the door, then held it open for Janna. “After you.”

The workspace was small, but it was comfortable. Janna lifted her lantern to illuminate it better as Phineas produced other light sources with torches on the wall and found herself momentarily speechless at the sight of all the creations before her. There were tiny mice, self-propelled fish swimming around in a bowl, a turtle laid out on its back, half-assembled. “You made all of these?” Janna asked before she could help herself, reaching out to touch a small squirrel.

Phineas nodded as he cleared a space for himself to work, settling on a low stool and reaching for a tool on the wall. “If I was to make this space, I thought I might as well fill it.”

“Did you? Build this place.”

Another nod. “I’m not foolish enough to tinker in the house. It’d be awkward for everyone involved.”

Janna had learned that when Phineas said something would be awkward, what he often meant was that it would make someone mad. Usually his Uncle, by the way it had sounded, but he dismissed her inquiries on that subject nearly as soon as she made them, the only questions he routinely refused to answer. Now hardly seemed like the time to press the issue – not when he was still resolutely not looking at her, not when she had yet to apologise.

It was strange. She’d always been told she was curt at best, quick and to the point. Now, she had no idea where to begin. “I didn’t mean to abandon you,” she began, fiddling with her fingers. “At the bookstore. I wanted to come.”

Phineas snorted softly at that. “To tell me to leave you alone in person? I likely should have gotten the message before bothering you at your home, but I suppose the thought is kind.”

“No. To talk and study. Like always.” She took a deep breath. “Did you know your bird could shit?”

Phineas paused for a moment, his tools stilling in his hands. “I wasn’t sure that it worked, but I was aware of the possibility, yes. It’s not real shit, by the way, just an analog. I suppose it relieved itself on some treasured heirloom and was summarily smashed out of spite and frustration.”

“Actually, it went on my father,” Janna said shortly. “He's the one who broke it.”

He looked up at that. “Your father? That makes no sense, given the trigger. What the devil was he doing insulting you?”

So that had been what happened, Janna thought. She’d wondered why the bird had so suddenly sprung to such vibrant action. It made sense, now. “He was mad. He’s always mad. You visited that day, I doubt you’re surprised.”

“Appalled, mostly.” He was facing her now, hands on his knees, the bird all but forgotten. “Being mad at the universe is no call for being mad at your child, especially one so lovely as yourself – sorry,” he said, immediately clamping his mouth shut. “No call for that, my mind ran away.”

“That’s the point,” Janna said quietly. “He found the bird and assumed it was from some admirer, like I have those. That was what…started him off.”

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘like you have those’? Janna, you’re bloody fucking beautiful, you’ve got a wit like a knife, you’re maddeningly interesting. I _refuse_ to believe I’m the only person who’s noticed these things-”

“You are,” Janna interrupted, “and that’s not the point.” When Phineas clamped his mouth shut and gestured for her to continue, she forced out a slow, measured breath. _Steady now, Janna._ She could do this. “The point is, you don’t know everything.” _You think he’ll want you when he knows about your fucking condition?_ Father’s voice rang bitter in her head.

“Then tell me,” Phineas said, and moved his stool closer. “I don’t startle easily. Well. Not in this sense, there’s no accounting for when I’m occupied in books. I’ll listen.”

His eyes were so damn earnest, Janna thought, wide and ready to believe, desperate to understand. Dimly, she wondered how quickly that was about to go away. “It’s easier to show you,” she said quietly, and began to unbutton her shirt.

To his credit, Phineas immediately looked away, stammering as he flushed red. It made Janna smile faintly as she shrugged the fabric down around her shoulders and turned to face the wall, unable to stand looking at his face. “It’s alright, Phineas. You can look.”

“I-Alright, if you are absolutely positive, then- oh.” The silence was heavy, nigh upon unbearable. When Phineas spoke at last, his voice was curious. “Are those scales?”

Janna nodded, closing her eyes. “Dragon scales, yes. I was born with them.”

“Your mother was a dragonborn? Avandra’s ass, that must have been uncomfortable for-“

“No,” Janna interrupted, before he could continue down that path further. “She was a halfling, same as Father, and she wasn’t like this either. I have no idea where they came from, or why, but I was born with them and Father doesn’t know why either and Mother’s too dead to ask. He assumes it’s a curse.”

“A curse? Why the fuck would he assume it’s a curse-?”

“Because she died giving birth to me, and she was perfectly healthy before,” Janna said, her eyes still shut. “How else do you explain that, Phineas? It’s some sort of blight, and maybe it won’t kill me but it won’t win me any favours, either. I thought learning magic might give me some way of getting rid of it, but I doubt that now and either way it doesn’t matter. Nobody in their right mind would want anything to do with me if they knew.”

For a long time, Phineas was silent. When he finally spoke again, the curiosity was gone, replaced by a strange stillness. “Are those his words or yours?”

Janna laughed, short and bitter. “Who cares? They’re true.”

The silence returned in full force, for so long it became almost painful. Then his words broke the silence again. "Have you heard of draconic sorcerers?” When Janna shook her head, Phineas continued. “They’re rare, relatively speaking. Sort of come out of nowhere sometimes, same way a lot of sorcerers do. Some kind of brush with magic in someone’s life, and anything could happen to them or their children, years down the line even. Sorcerers of that bloodline, they have scales on their skin – patches, sort of like…freckles, or vitiligo. At a guess, I’d say that might be the source of your eyes as well. You certainly didn’t inherit those from him.”

Janna pressed her lips together and shook her head, just barely. The scales and her eyes, the two things she’d always hated the most about herself. Was magic really the root of them both? “If it’s sorcery, then there’s still no way to get rid of it.”

“Likely not, but there’s also no cause to.” The statement made Janna turn, and it was only then that she noticed that Phineas had come closer at some point, was standing right behind her. As she stood frozen, he reached out and pulled the fabric of her shirt back over her shoulders, the action gentle. “You’ve been magical since you were born. That can hardly be a surprise,” he murmured, securing the buttons again with nimble fingers. “Your father is a fucking fool, and I’m afraid I’ve been one as well, for assuming all this has been about my nonsense. I’m sorry for that. I can’t imagine how much courage it took to show me something so vulnerable, but I admire it greatly.” As he secured the last of the buttons, his fingers lingered for a moment before falling away, hands drifting back to his sides. He looked up at her with those same earnest green eyes, bright and glistening now, and smiled. “You are…breathtaking in full. Blast the fucking shit out of anyone who tells you otherwise.”

Janna shook her head. None of this made any sense. “Phineas, what on earth are you crying for?”

He chuckled at that, rubbing at his eyes. “Sorry, it’s just – your father is a fucking asshole, and I rather wish I could send a horde of geese after him but I can’t. You don’t deserve that nonsense.”

He was crying for her. Of course he was. He was such a kind, soft-hearted fool. She wondered if he knew that he didn’t deserve the things he heard either. “Phineas,” she said, and reached for his hands.

He froze at that, but didn’t stiffen. His fingers wrapped around hers and squeezed, and though he was no longer meeting her gaze Janna could easily see he was staring at her mouth instead, his eyebrows furrowed, uncertain as if he were waiting for permission. When Janna said nothing, he simply squeezed her hand again, shaking his head. “I wish I were as brave as you,” he whispered.

“You are,” Janna replied softly. “You can be.” _Do it. I won’t stop you._

He stood still for another moment. Then he let out a breath. “If I fuck this up I will absolutely never forgive myself,” he murmured, and then he rose up and his lips were on hers, cautious but firm and Janna made no effort to stop herself from kissing back. Not when he accidentally bit her tongue, not when he managed to knock them both into the stool behind him and almost twisted both their ankles.

“Sorry,” he whispered shakily into the space between them as they finally pulled apart to breathe and steady, his voice sounding like he didn’t quite know what to do with it. “So sorry, I’m awful at this.”

“That’s what practise is for,” Janna said, a mimic of his own words the first time she’d nearly singed his eyebrows off, and smiled when he laughed into the space between them, a sound like honey, like home.

**Author's Note:**

> weeee for abrupt endings but if i didn't end it here this woulda been another 20000 word monstrosity and there's already enough of those. more to come bc i have no self control whatsofuckingever.


End file.
